Something silly happened when I was at New York ComicCon. I went to Jimmy Palmiotti and realised that I didn’t have my copy of Random Acts of Violence on me. He was all sorts of awesome, and gave me a copy he had on him.

Now, what does this mean? It means I have two copies. So, the first Girls Who Read Comics contest is this:

I admit to being a soft touch for horror movies. Too many of them just felt like I was waiting while the director made the sound tech develop “ambiance”. Thankfully, a good story doesn’t require the same patience. If I want to know what’s going to happen, then I can keep reading. This book sounds like one that I’d rush through and then go back through noticing the little tidbits that are easily overlooked while engrossed in the plot. Thus… I want it.
But does a desire to obtain the prize provide a reason I should win? Not at all, because anyone writing shares that desire. What do I bring to the table that no one else has? How do I rate above and beyond the rest?

Nothing, and I don’t.

Why pick me?

After I have absorbed the plot and art into my very soul, I will share it. I will share it with my brother. I will share it with my friends. I will share it with my eldest niece. Choose me to spread the words of Palmiotti and Gray, as well as the art of Mounts and Caracuzzo. Send me that package and the items that I don’t love personally will have homes found for them.

Also, pick me because I’m cute.

Actually, that last part was a lie, but the rest are my true intentions.